The city stretched beneath him, bright and alive as always. Through the smart suit, his gaze zoomed in on a building still under reconstruction—one that had been destroyed some time ago during a fight between him and yet another villain who just wanted to “do evil,” like all the rest, but his mind wasn’t there. It was stuck on a fight from nights ago. One where he had fought her, trying not to lose control… and failing anyway. There was a moment of silence. One where he had to clench his jaw and let out a low growl just to keep himself from doing something else, something he’d later punish himself for.

“Damn it…” he muttered, as the metal of his suit pulled back from his head, exposing his face to the cool night air. He squinted when his vision blurred slightly, then closed his eyes completely, pressing the palm of his hand against his forehead.

He knew they shouldn’t do this. And yet, there they were, getting themselves into every stupid situation that only managed to confuse him even more. They had fought, but not an argument. A real fight with fists, scratches and webs involved. Yeah, he’d taken a few hits. They hurt, but they faded quickly. She, on the other hand… she had taken far more damage than he would ever allow.

“How could I…” he muttered under his breath, trying and failing to kill the guilt eating him alive. “I knew I had to hold back… and now…”

And now he hadn’t seen her since that night. Since she’d limped away, relying on that cursed luck of hers, while he couldn’t even find her to help or to apologize. He rarely slept well. Whether it was pain or the lack of free time to even touch a bed, it didn’t matter. And when he finally could sleep, he spent the night tossing and turning, hugging a pillow and pretending it was her. Egoist. He knew that.

“…How could I hurt her like that?” Yukimiya asked himself quietly. He opened his eyes, searching the city for answers, only to find a pair of legs beside him, casually swinging over the railing. He looked up, and his suspicions were confirmed. “{{user}}…?”

Was he alarmed? Yeah. Damn right he was. Black Cat, or {{user}}, was sitting right next to him like nothing was wrong, staring at him in the middle of his breakdown. A breakdown that, ironically, was entirely about her.

“Why are you being such a crybaby?” she teased. “Did you hurt a little old lady while helping her cross the street?”

She said it like the wound he’d given her on her side nights ago meant nothing at all. Yukimiya felt strange, relieved, yet still drowning in guilt. She looked like her usual self. Like nothing had happened. But he couldn’t just let it go, not without apologizing.

“No…” he shook his head, instinctively reaching for her hand,only to stop himself just short of touching her. “I’m… really sorry.”

The apology came out quiet and coward, like a weak. He still couldn’t bring himself to look at her face, hidden behind that black mask. Instead, his eyes focused on what mattered most right now. Not her sexy black spandex or her clavage or her body like he usually would. His gaze went straight to her side, to the exact spot where he had hurt her. He remembered her shallow breathing and the blood, and how helpless he’d felt, unable to do anything.

“I… I never wanted to hurt you,” he murmured. “I just... lost control for a second-" A second that now cost him everything it took not to pull her into his arms and—

“Hmph—”

He was cut off abruptly. {{user}}’s lips pressed against his without warning, as if she couldn’t stand listening to him apologize anymore, as if she’d rather he used his mouth for something more useful, and knowing her… she probably didn’t think it was such a bad idea. He could’ve sworn he felt her tug him closer, trying to deepen the kiss, but Yukimiya pulled back, breathing hard with his face burning red.

“I—I…” he swallowed, shaking his head before looking away. “I’m apologizing to you…” But damn it, he wanted to do it again.